


Changes

by Silence_burns



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, being a stubborn ass, monster hunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26793427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silence_burns/pseuds/Silence_burns
Summary: Getting used to a relationship is no easy task - especially for a stubborn Witcher.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader, Jaskier | Dandelion & Reader, Jaskier | Dandelion/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 72





	Changes

Soft music rolled off Jaskier's fingers, playing the lute he always took with him. It didn't matter if he headed toward the strange, shadowy woods or the outskirts of a raging battle. Wherever the bard went, his lute stuck by his side. 

It was with him even there, in the middle of a wild, tangled niche between one steep hill and another. People from nearby villages used the winding path to cross from one part of the county to another, but that was before the monster came and successfully reduced traffic on the path. 

The sun was high and shimmering through the lush leaves over your head. Jaskier hummed a melody he had been working on for a while now. He kept repeating the same four notes and you knew them by heart. Judging by the clamor and curses coming from the trees to your right, it would take Jaskier a while longer to finish it. The conditions he had to work in were far from perfect, but the bard always stated that pain made the art better. More real, apparently. 

Geralt would be an excellent artist, then, you thought, watching him struggle with not one, not two, but three slithery beasts with their skin like wood and moss, almost indistinguishable from the thicket of the forest. 

"Are you going to just sit there?" Geralt snapped, fencing them off with wide slashes of the sword. Or at least, as wide as the trees allowed him. 

Your yawn was ostentatious and lazy as you did exactly that, leaning on Jaskier next to you. 

"Have you heard anything, darling?" you crooned sweetly to the bard. 

"Nothing, my dear. Not even a whisper from a proud and confident Witcher who doesn't ever need help. And especially not from the good for nothings like us," Jaskier strummed his lute with patience. The beasts completely ignored you once they assessed only Geralt attacked them. 

Geralt swore violently, dancing on the uneven ground as the claws and tails slashed around him with deadly precision. It was supposed to be an easy job, or at least a fast one. The creatures attacking him rarely ever joined ranks since they were viciously territorial. He didn't expect to find so many in the long strip of forest between the hills. It shouldn't have surprised him, though. Villagers on both its ends continued to cut it down a little more every winter while looking for wood to keep their fires and hearts warm, and every spring to make their fields bigger. The world was changing, bit by bit, whether its inhabitants liked it or not. 

Geralt hated it, but no one ever cared about his opinion. 

He finally landed a deep slash across the chest of one of the monsters, but two others immediately attacked him from both sides. Geralt ached and grew tired of dancing between roots and branches and those densely grown trees, blocking him from fighting the way he preferred. 

"You're both assholes," Geralt growled. "You can't stay mad at me forever." 

"Who knows what tomorrow will bring?" Jaskier shrugged. "But today we can be as petty as we want."

"At least we're honest about ourselves," you added, stretching your legs over the soft moss. Your bow laid next to you, but you didn't see any reason to use it. 

Geralt fumed. Another creature earned a bite of his sword, nearly cutting off one of its wiry limbs. 

"You know I didn't mean it," he said, not taking his eyes off the monsters circling him. "Not in…  _ that  _ way." 

You nudged Jaskier in the ribs. "I think our boyfriend is trying to apologize." 

Jaskier made a dramatic face. "But why, darling? Do you think our 'heartless, better off alone' witcher would actually prefer not to live off his miserable existence unloved and uncared for, roaming the world as the 'monster deprived of all feelings'? I'm not sure why he'd do that. Certainly not after that argument this morning."

Geralt growled, startling the forest creatures. He attacked from the right, letting his sword circle a wide arch between the low branches, and making the creatures focus on the shimmering silver. From his belt, he fished a knife. 

It was not silver, and even when it burrowed deep into the bark-like skin, it didn't cause the creature much damage. The sword, cutting its head off in the moment of surprise, did. 

The other monster screeched in terror and leaped on the witcher from behind. 

An arrow pierced its head, stopping it in the tracks long enough for the silver sword to finish the job. 

Geralt brushed the sweat from his forehead when he ended the last one’s life.

"Do we forgive him?" you asked the bard, putting your bow down. 

Jaskier whistled his four notes for a moment longer before finally nodding. "He'd be completely lost without us."

Geralt wanted to cut in, but stopped himself. The argument from the morning had been gnawing on him for hours. He was still getting used to having companions follow him, despite all his quirks and issues. 

Self reflection was not his strongest suite, but even Geralt had to admit he might have been too harsh and snappy that time.

He cleaned the sword and retrieved his knife from the corpse, already turning to a moss-covered pile. Creatures of the woods rarely ever formed packs. It had never happened before, as far as Geralt knew, but things had been changing in the world for a while now. It shouldn't surprise him anymore. But if even the monsters were able to change, why would a witcher, not so different from them, be any exception? 

Geralt looked at his companions and friends, sprawled on the soft, mossy ground. "Anyone want a beer? We earned it." 

Something in his chest eased when he noticed the smiles returning to your faces. 

It was something he could get used to. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this fic!
> 
> You can find more of my works on this AO3 account or on silence-burns.tumblr.com


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